


For the Consequences

by Butane Baby (Butane_Baby9)



Category: Dragon Ball, Dragon Ball Super, Dragon Ball Z
Genre: Drama, F/M, Friendship, Love, Married Life, Vegebul
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-04
Updated: 2020-07-04
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:14:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25058287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Butane_Baby9/pseuds/Butane%20Baby
Summary: "When I die?"Yet again, Prince Vegeta has pushed himself beyond another extraordinary limit through hard work and determination on Yardrat. His feat, while awe-inspiring, is the product of other motivations. As they consider their lives together and their young children after many trials, he and wife Bulma must speak truths about their future with great love and courage.
Relationships: Bulma Briefs/Vegeta
Comments: 4
Kudos: 33





	For the Consequences

**Author's Note:**

> This work is based on events in Dragon Ball Super manga, chapter 61. It has some spoilers, but not everything represented here has transpired yet. Read at your own risk. 🙂 Separately, as I said on Tumblr recently, "An Authentic Saiyan" will be the last serial story I write as Butane Baby. (I'm keeping my pen name, though. ) It's not a good idea to give a time frame for publication just yet, but I am keeping my promise to finish.

Finding himself in a familiar position, Piccolo grasped Goku's shoulder. The three generations of the Son clan -- Goku, Gohan, and Goten -- all had unique and unforgettable personalities. That said, they also shared a strong curiosity about everything, often wanting to know everything up front. Gohan had been the least impulsive, though, which lent to Piccolo's success with training in _his way_ from Gohan's childhood. The other two merely required different approaches to bring out the best in them, and that was OK. Good teachers adapt.  
  
"What?"  
  
Piccolo shook his head. "Leave him alone now, Son Goku. This is different."  
  
"Look, I just want to hear Vegeta say more about his training on Yardrat," Goku replied. "What he learned in such a short time is amazing! I mean, he was rubbing it in my face the moment he got here. This is the man who talks shit to me while we're desperately trying stay alive _together --_ like all the time _."  
  
_Piccolo's subdued yet rich laughter drew a more exuberant, good-natured hooting from Goku.  
  
"Son, don't be thickheaded. Vegeta's arrogance is in his blood. In a sense, that's good, because his constant ribbing keeps you encouraged in a different way, because he is a different man now. He teaches you as much about yourself as you teach him."   
  
Appearing irritated, Goku scratched his sand-filled, unkempt black hair. "So explain to me again why I can't talk with him?"  
  
Piccolo watched Vegeta leave alone -- as the Saiyan prince had done many times over after battles -- reflecting on Goku's question.  
  
"Because, my friend, he just freed the spirits of billions of unfortunate souls that Moro consumed. That's a deeply personal and spiritually life-altering experience. Vegeta may die as the villain he still believes he is, but Yamoshi and the Saiyan ancients won't allow the good in him to go unclaimed. They _have_ claimed it as their own, through his personal growth."  
  
Goku usually responded with some ambivalence when his and Vegeta's shared heritage came up in conversation. It hadn't been that long ago that he finally understood the full significance, after he and Vegeta reached the expanse of the ancients' righteous power. The lives they lived were meant for them.   
  
"I guess we also have his wife to thank for sticking by him too," he mused.  
  
"Heh." Piccolo snorted at this declaration. "Just him? As I recall, Bulma discovered how to find the Dragon Balls while you were still learning how to bathe properly. She also figured out how to use Frieza's tech scouters, and ---"  
  
"That's not fair, Piccolo!" Goku whined. "She wasn't perfect either! You _didn't_ grow up with her."  
  
"She still isn't," Piccolo continued, "but Vegeta should be with her right now -- and no one else."  
  


* * *

  
Vegeta's pensive stare relaxed when his feet touched solid ground again. Over the years, coming home each time felt like dropping another burden from his soul, and no one was more grateful for it than he. So many battles rarely failed to excite. But as an older and wiser man, the Saiyan prince couldn't say he loved running toward every match as much anymore, especially this last one with Moro. Even when he and Goku faced their universe's erasure during the Tournament of Power, he didn't feel fear. None of the formidable beings they fought in the past frightened him-- not Majin Buu, Cell, Broly, Zamasu, Black, and the Androids. He stopped feeling fear long ago after confronting Frieza and the Ginyu Force on Namek. He didn't win that bloody fight with Frieza, but he vowed to never again allow anyone to cause dread within him.  
  
But as Piccolo said, this was different. Moro gleefully sucked the life force out of everyone he encountered. Vegeta couldn't fathom how this insatiable and sneeringly diabolical creature managed to gain followers. How did this sorcerer become so powerful? Vegeta would never tell anyone, not even his wife, that Frieza and Moro weren't even close cousins as evildoers. Vegeta felt the weight of the horned sorcerer's malevolence intimately. That bastard _wanted_ Goku and him to know how beautiful it felt to drain them dry. The prince heard Moro speaking to him soothingly, saying he had done his best as a warrior and fought valiantly.  
  
" _It's your time. There is no hell for you with me. Your force is with me. You will live on through me. I feel your pain. It's never left, despite your love for them. They don't know. It's time to rest, finally."_   
  
It almost worked -- just the sound of Moro's hypnotic voice -- which shook Vegeta to his core. _No one_ had ever been that skilled at testing his inner will like that. Babadi's sorcery had come close, gleefully feeding on prince's festering fury from years past, and almost driving him to close to total insanity, but Vegeta shattered that spell. He also had to rebuild and reclaim everything he almost lost permanently, including his family. Higher powers believed in _his power_ enough to pluck him from hell to fight with Goku against Buu's mortal threat to the universe, which they won. Because of the prince's selflessness and smarts at the end of that fight, his life and body were restored. Vegeta also speculated that those same "authorities" wanted him around longer for their own protection. If he died, then they could say he did what he supposed to do with his strength -- and it was _the least_ he could do, given his past.  
  
_"You don't believe you AREN'T going to hell?" Moro asked._  
  
No one _ever_ said Vegeta wouldn't see hell again, though, but he knew. Moro's sarcastic challenge merely gave the prince space to reinforce that solemn, honest message to those who treated him mercifully when they didn't have to. They were all there watching the exchange. Whether they heard him up on that cliff didn't matter. He bore witness to himself.  
  
_"When I die? Naturally, I'm bound for hell. At the end of the day, I'm a villain. I've been prepared for the consequences for quite some time."_  
  
Vegeta was a hit-man and overseer under Frieza's ironclad reign, allowing the brutality and bitterness around him to fester within -- and he himself was a slave. Staying in Frieza's good graces reinforced the perniciousness and demoralization of the prince's psychological bondage. As long as Vegeta dirtied his hands with the dirtiest work, Frieza tolerated the prince's paeans for the Saiyans' legacy. Vegeta and his "monkey flunkies" were lucky enough to be in his presence, Freiza thought-- on any given day, when he was a good mood and maybe tipsy from a glass of red wine.  
  
As he did during every battle, Vegeta thought of those he loved as death extended its willing hand. Its commanding stillness was always most noticeable during his toughest fights. Part of him used the quietude to his advantage -- a warrior's meditative zone, as it were. His battles' ear-splitting noisiness was muted there, though his senses were attuned to everything outside of himself.  
  
He could focus, strategize, and ultimately win. He had to, but being prepared for the unfortunate alternative was imperative as well.  
  
Bulma believed in hope, and he loved her most for that. He wished he could find the right words to tell her. Yet, even after many good years together, he couldn't subscribe to the same belief. He witnessed the full extent of mortals' cruelty, avarice, and despair. His life defined "borrowed time." Though he often ran toward flames, he had also committed to living -- at least to seeing their children reach adulthood. Preserving their well-being meant everything. Perhaps they would fully appreciate the profound gift of the freedom he lost as a youngster. They could laugh and smile freely, supplanting his roughened scowls. To be sure, Trunks and Bulla would have been reared differently on his home planet, but that same liberty still would have been theirs had it not been for… for…  
  
Enough.   
  
He also thought of Goku, a friend he never expected to have. He left swiftly after Moro's defeat because trying to talk would have wrecked him. He just couldn't do it. None of their mega-battles together would ever qualify as normal, but this felt especially profound. He lobbed taunts at Goku on the battlefield, on this day, where they belonged. His "idiot" friend could leave eager and prepared to take on another challenge.  
  
Prince Vegeta only wanted to see the woman he loved.

* * *

  
Bulma arrived home after her husband, jumping from her plane to run inside. Her stride was brisk, despite her heavy work boots and baggy coveralls.  
  
Vegeta hadn't changed clothes before she entered the bedroom. Both were covered in grime. Unsurprisingly, Bulma laughed first. Her husband averted his eyes, appearing uncomfortable. How many times had this routine played out between them? No one else alive could do that to him like her.  
  
Bulma had to remember to breathe through her smile. She heard her husband on the battlefield while watching from the enchanted Lookout. Dende, Earth's guardian, had given her special access to listen only to Vegeta. Everyone else she brought to the Lookout for protection could only watch. Her silence conveyed weariness Dende had never witnessed before in her. Offering verbal support didn't seem right, so he held Bulma's hand as her head bowed. He understood.  
  
Vegeta felt his wife's emotional energy more acutely and intuitively now. He knew just how hurt she was. She must have heard everything from the Lookout, he deduced. No amount of smiling and jesting could hide it. He brought her into his arms, planting a hard kiss on her head.  
  
"Stop holding your breath, woman. You'll pass out."  
  
Bulma held his chin, gently shaking it. "I'm practicing for another deep-sea diving mission."  
  
"You're not going without me. Maybe I can catch lunch for us when that happens."  
  
"That's never the purpose of these excursions, Vegeta."   
  
"Maybe not for you."  
  
Vegeta helped remove her clothes first, handing her a large towel-wrap and slippers. Afterward, Bulma carefully detached parts of his armor, inspecting them until he gave her the side-eye.  
  
"Shall I compliment this masterpiece?" he asked. "Would that help you work faster?"  
  
Bulma removed her eyepiece. She seldom didn't wear it when Vegeta took off his armor. He found this quirk quite sexy. His wife _liked_ battle gear. How lucky was he?   
  
"Oooh," she cooed, kissing him. "I've spoiled you. You're becoming too nice. We might have to give you testosterone supplements to change that."   
  
"Not unless you want me to turn into an ape _without_ my tail," Vegeta remarked with his signature grunt and smirk. "I'll take no responsibility for that outcome."  
  
"Of course you wouldn't." Bulma inhaled, grasping his hand. "You…did a fine job out there today, Prince Vegeta -- a very fine job indeed."  
  
"I know," he replied, standing with her. "Worked my ass off. Went to Yardrat."  
  
Bulma smiled as they walked to their Jacuzzi room. Both were ready for that special kind of relaxation that only warm water could stimulate. "Um, I figured that out when you arrived out of nowhere, right in front of Goku."  
  
"I couldn't let the opportunity to rub my accomplishments in Kakarot's face be wasted, now could I? I wouldn't be who I am if I didn't."  
  
"Tis true."  
  
Vegeta grabbed a comfy back pillow as he escorted Bulma into the hot tub. She settled into his embrace as the water bubbled around them.  
  
"Who gets to back rub first?"  
  
"Whoever gets sleepy first," Vegeta said. The words eased from his mouth as each muscle relaxed. "I believe that's fair."  
  
Bulma played with his fingers, thinking about everything that transpired. "Whis will… bring back the children tomorrow afternoon, now that everyone's safe here. They're all fine, by the way."  
  
"I would think so," Vegeta sniffed. "Only those with a death wish would tackle a mob of boisterous Saiyan children, a so-called angel with the battle skills of a rabid animal, and a perpetually grouchy god of destruction."  
  
"Bulla is only a baby, Vegeta."  
  
"Our daughter is barely one step behind Gohan's brat Pan in her development. Why do you think Beerus has likely taken an interest in her? Get ready. You think Trunks was a handful? Saiyan girls are nothing to be played with."  
  
Bulma leaned back further as he started her back rub. "Sleepy?"  
  
"Noooo," he purred in her ear. "I just want to get to the sex."  
  
Bulma laughed softly, splashing water on his arm. "And here I thought you cared about conversation."  
  
"How did you convince Lord Beerus and Whis to babysit? They're not supposed to take sides."  
  
"They don't define it like that. Beerus griped terribly before putting Bulla on his shoulder. She had been colicky but immediately fell asleep."  
  
"And I think they make up rules as they go along," Vegeta asserted. "I certainly haven't heard of any god willingly attempting to train a maniacal, unrepentant, bloodthirsty despot for shits and giggles."  
  
"Um, reality check." Bulma tapped on his head. "Did you forget about that lunatic Zamasu?"   
  
"That was a special circumstance." Vegeta frowned, thinking about that horrid struggle. "The seeds of insanity were already there during his Supreme Kai training. No one could have known."  
  
Vegeta then considered his own words. After a prolonged exhale, he kissed his wife, savoring every ounce of her love for him. Bulma's eyelids were heavy from drowsiness.  
  
"You're tired."  
  
"You too, badman," she replied, yawning. "I'm sure you didn't get much sleep out there in space either."  
  
"I got enough of it. Let's stay another fifteen minutes and go to bed for a while. Maybe we can eat around 3 a.m."  
  


* * *

  
Bulma fell into a heavy sleep soon after they landed in bed, which actually pleased her husband. She needed it more, he felt. Having him home safely brought some peace and stability. Bulma accepted Vegeta's natural way of being and his motivations, but having a second child together brought them even closer. Time was precious, and her emotions had become more sensitive about this fact.  
  
Vegeta ended up being the late sleeper that morning. Extreme exhaustion penetrated every bone and muscle when he awoke. He could barely move, and his chest ached. Talking would be difficult. He coughed, falling back on his pillows. Definitely not as bad as Goku's first few dramatic "Ultra Instinct" collapses, but…  
  
"Damn," he murmured testily. "This is insane. Someone could probably murder me like this."  
  
That might be taking it a little too far, he thought, mustering a cocky grin. If Goku could get his happy-go-lucky ass up after blowing up about a billion blood vessels with his special trick, then this would be cake for the prince of all Saiyans. Pybara, Vegeta's trainer on Yardrat, warned of this side-effect from using Forced Spirit Fission to weaken Moro. Vegeta hadn't followed explicit instructions to meditate and rest for hours to rejuvenate and restore his equilibrium. He literally set others' energy _free --_ the living and the dead. That was no small feat.  
  
Bulma cheerfully re-entered the room carrying a tray of coffee and pastries. Then she saw her husband's appearance. All of the blood seemed to have drained from Vegeta's normally tawny physique. He looked pallid and weak, though a sheer layer of sweat beaded on his face. Shocked, Bulma made haste to the bedside.  
  
"What the hell is going on here?" she stuttered, immediately taking his pulse. "Vegeta, babe, open your eyes for me. Come on."  
  
"I'm…fine," he croaked. "Really."  
  
"The hell you are!" Bulma yelled. "You were fine _before_. We need to get you medical help."  
  
Time for telepathy, he thought.  
  
" _Listen to me, Bulma. I said I'll be fine. This is a side-effect from the technique I learned. I didn't follow my trainer's orders on how to recover from using it."  
  
_"Damn it." Bulma's shoulders arched sharply as she composed herself. "I just can't do this with you right now! _I just can't, Vegeta._ I would have been patient had you just said something. I've been patient for all of these years." _  
  
_" _Exactly."_ Vegeta said as his eyes closed. " _You have. I wanted you to feel safe -- to be with you first."  
  
_"I’ll be back with a cloth for your head," Bulma replied flatly. "Whatever it is you need to recover, start now. If I can help, then let's work it out together."  
  
Her pace toward the bathroom picked up speed. She climbed into the shower and shut the door, weeping bitterly until she almost lost her breath. Vegeta's words on the battlefield battered her mind and heart. He never expressed it out loud -- not even to her -- but now his beliefs were on full display. She was unready to confront the weight of the possibility again, and yet there was no guarantee. Happy endings weren't for everyone. He was the love of her life, something no one thought would happen. She believed in his capacity for goodness -- and he delivered -- but getting there wasn't always a joyride.  
  
Bulma covered her ears, reliving her screams after being told Vegeta had committed suicide, hoping to kill the monster he and Goku awakened during another epic fight, which shouldn't have happened the way it did.  
_  
_ _I need to get back in there._ She tried to stand, but her legs seemed to have given out. _Straighten your face, woman. Put some cold water under these puffy eyes. He's too exhausted to notice much._  
  
"Bul…Bulma. Are you…you all right?" Vegeta found the strength to drag himself from bed to find her -- and to talk. His hands gripped the door frame as he staggered inside -- exhaustion be damned. _  
_  
Bulma's lowered head snapped to attention, along with her legs. She crawled from the shower to steady him. Normally, he would have loved her touch. This hurt like hell, like his nerves were on fire, but he didn't wince.  
  
"Be quiet, you fool," she scolded. "This isn't the time be the hero. Telepathy is fine."  
  
_"You're crying."_  
  
Bulma wiped her face, overlooking his statement. "Put your arm around my shoulder, Vegeta. Do you think you can walk?"  
_  
"I got in here, didn't I? I don't need a wheelchair."_

Bulma's face tensed. He was absolutely incorrigible. "Didn't I say shut your mouth?"  
  
" _My mouth isn't open."_ Vegeta took a few steps, moving at sloth's pace. _"Just watch me from behind."_

Bulma sat down after getting him into bed. "From what I remember, Goku had to meditate to recover from the Kaio-Ken technique too. Is this the same for you?"  
  
_"I suppose."  
  
_After listening to him cough, Bulma had to give orders. "I want you to sleep some more. No arguments. Then I'll wake you to do _the homework_ Pybara assigned."  
  
" _I'm sorry... that what I said to Moro hurt you."  
  
_"But you aren't sorry you said it," Bulma replied with sadness. "I just wasn't ready to hear it then."  
  
_"Well now you have. It's time for you to accept the truth. There's no complete erasure of my past deeds. Unless I'm called to become a god of destruction -- living another life of servitude for my atonement that will permanently separate us -- then there's no other place for me. I have done my best."  
  
_"But you did some good things when you worked under Frieza too."  
  
" _I served a vicious colonizer who basically enslaved my people -- and others -- and then murdered them. Whatever good I've done at times as I aged doesn't outweigh the bad, given my anger about almost everything. You act like Earth was exempt too, at least when I first arrived."  
  
_Bulma used gentle touches to wipe his still-sweaty face. _"_ You and Goku were trying to kill each other out there in the sticks for fun, not the rest of us."

 _"I think your weakling ex-bae Yamcha would have a different opinion. Krillin too."  
  
_"Vegeta ---"  
  
" _Enough, Bulma!"_ His left hand unfolded. _" Stop this. Take my hand. For fifteen years, we've raised our son not to make excuses. That is how our family operates, and I'll be damned if that's going to change now!"  
  
_He purposely exposed their wedding rings, reminding her of their vows: "Until death do us part." He wished to kiss her pain away, but that had to wait.  
  
"May I join you when you're prepared to meditate?"  
  
" _Join me for what?"_

"Stop being a hard ass," Bulma replied, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Let me share that experience with you. Maybe I can feel what you felt." _  
_  
" _Not a day went by that I didn't think of us. That's what prepared me. What I felt was you and our children. Before that, when I first woke from almost being killed by Moro on New Namek, I looked at that Namekian boy who kept me alive and thought of the children so many others have lost."  
  
_Bulma laid down beside her dozing husband, watching him breathe. She set aside everything else, focusing on the time they had left.   
  


* * *

  
Goten ran into the kitchen first, ready for a snack -- or a full meal. Meanwhile, Trunks sauntered in more casually. This was his home. He could wait before consuming five tables of food.   
  
"Hi, Bulma!"  
  
"Hi, boys." Bulma looked up, covering her breast to feed Bulla. "It took you long enough to get here."  
  
"That wouldn't have been a problem had Whis not dropped us off for more exercise at 17's nature sanctuary," Trunks said. "It was cool, though. It was also neat to see how much work dad and Goku did on Beerus' planet when we weren't there. Those guys are tough teachers."  
  
"They are," Bulma replied, kissing her happy daughter. "Gives you better perspective on hard work, eh?"  
  
Trunks blushed, raising his arms behind his head. "Mom, like why are you dressed like that?"  
  
Bulma handed Goten a food capsule, which he promptly took before running into the dining room.  
  
"Thank you, Bulma!!!"  
  
"My pleasure, sweetheart!"  
  
Trunks frowned. "He always lets his stomach take control first. That's such a weakness."  
  
Bulma's eyes delivered a motherly warning. "Don't talk about him like that."  
  
"I sound like dad," Trunks wisecracked. "You should be accustomed to this by now. Where is he anyway? In a nuclear bunker somewhere?"  
  
"He slept a while longer," Bulma sighed. Their smart-mouthed kid absorbed everything about them. "He's recovering from the training he did in space and needs to practice meditative conditioning. I’m joining him later. I've never participated in anything like this before, even when I was around Goku and Krillin more often."  
  
"That's strange." Concern lines creased Trunks' forehead. "What kind of _training_ would keep dad in bed all day? That rarely happens."  
  
"I'll let him tell you all about it."  
  
"I would also like to hear why you twisted Whis's arm to send us away this time -- with the babies."  
  
"Come here, son." Bulma leaned over to kiss his cheek. "You're all we have left. When our lives are endangered, it was everyone's decision to protect you. After what we endured with Buu, every woman in our families decided on this. Your fathers had to agree -- and in Pan's case, her grandfathers. However, that doesn't mean you don't train and get stronger, if that is your path. Chi Chi and I have a purpose for everything we do. Think about who you're spending time with these days."  
  
"So…so you were in danger?"  
  
"We all were, from someone insanely powerful. If things went south, Whis would have told you quickly, sweetheart."  
  
Trunks looked away. "You know, I just wish you would let Goten and me help sometimes -- like we have before -- but I guess I have to accept this. I mean, I know what the stakes are. We all could get wiped out at any time. I made peace with this about dad a long time ago, but what makes you think that I would want to live here without _the both of you_?"  
  
"I'm so sorry, baby." Bulma said. "I didn't mean to hurt you. I can see you wanted to say this for a while."  
  
Trunks was doing his best not to cry, so his mother waited before bringing him closer. "I have, and now it's said. I know you do just as much as dad to keep us alive, and that you're needed. I also know you don't want us to worry as much, in order for Goten and me to be happy."  
  
Bulla cooed, making them both smile.  
  
"Go see your papa, Trunks. He's out back, on the North Hill. He required some help getting there, which made him cranky, but I'm sure that's passed. Just raise your energy a bit to let him know it's you. The last thing we need is a roasted teenager on our hands."  
  
"Holy moly, mom!" Trunks' eyes widened with interest. "What did dad do to himself?! Was it like the Ultra Instinct thing with Goku? Boy, I wish I could have seen whatever this was!"  
  
"I know this is a big ask, and I'll make it up to you. After visiting with Vegeta, could you babysit your sister for a few more hours? Or maybe just take her to your grandparents?"  
  
Trunks scratched his head, observing his baby sister. "You go be with dad first. Goten and I will pack up the food -- if he hasn't eaten everything in sight -- and go to grandma and grandpa's house with Bulla. Dad owes me a ton of time doing stuff together, and I have a feeling he'll pay his debts soon."  
  
Bulma smiled, giving her remarkably insightful son a giant hug. "You are the best, you know that?"  
  
"Yup." Trunks hugged her tighter. "So are you."  
  
Bulma made it to the North Hill on their property within the hour. Vegeta was seated on a woven rug large enough to fit them both. His eyes opened, listening to his wife's determined footsteps. She stopped in front, observing his condition as he did with her, before seating herself.  
  
"How's the boy?"  
  
"Possessed by his father's dry humor."  
  
"Could be worse, Bulma."  
  
Bulma, who didn't expect that reaction, laughed out loud. Then she settled herself. Vegeta looked so peaceful -- and so different from the blazing, dogged and outlandish cyclone of a man who enlivened heart and mind. Her wide and curious blue eyes averted from his thoughtful gaze for the first time ever.  
  
"I'm with you." Vegeta reached for his wife's hand as their eyes closed together. "Don't cry without me this time."  
  


* * *

**Notes (July 4): Thanks for reading this story! Let me know what you think. Seeing Vegeta speak to Moro like that in the manga surprised many fans, which moved me to write this. The entire scene was well done and very powerful. The chapter is free to read online for a while, so I recommend checking it out.  
  
**


End file.
